Drifting
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: I'm going in and out...I can't ever hold onto anything...I'm slowly drifting away...Rated T for torture, angst and just general stuff. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

_**Drifting**_

_**Chapter One **_

**A/N: Okay, guys! I've only seen the Lorax one and a half times. I would say twice, except I stopped halfway through rewatching because I was like, no, I don't really want to keep rewatching right now. So, anyway, the point is that I've been trying to study the characters, but I...I just feel like I did a terrible job on O'Hare. I don't know so much about Ted. He feels sorta kinda in-character, maybe a little braver than he is in the movie. But I saw him as...I don't know how to describe it. I think that O'Hare would've seen him as a very difficult person to control or manipulate, which is one of the many reasons why I think he didn't like Ted. Because the whole thing to him was about controlling the people and Ted broke through that, because he can't be controlled. I don't know.  
**

**Secondly, although I have seen it a limited amount of times, I still stand by the fact that is amazingly awesome and I love it. Maybe not as much as How to Train Your Dragon, but still. It was pretty awesome. **

**Now, thirdly. This is my very first Lorax fanfiction, so please, please be kind if I didn't get a lot right. I thought O'Hare was the mayor for much of the movie the first time around, so laugh at me all you want if I made mistakes. I'm really sorry if it's horrible. **

* * *

I awoke in darkness and I awoke all alone. My head was swimming and little blue lights were tinting my vision a strange color. I rose up slightly, a metallic clink filling my ears, the taste of blood flooding my mouth. I licked my lips and found them cracked and dry. I licked them again and swallowed. The back of my throat was like sandpaper. My limbs were heavy and my arms didn't want to move. Half of me wanted to go back to sleep, but the other half of me registered that something wasn't right. I was in the dark.

I always left my lamp burning at night. When I was ten years old, I remembered turning my lamp off and thinking to myself that I was a "big kid" now, and that I wasn't afraid of the dark. I made it maybe ten minutes before I had to turn the light back on, and since then, I've kept my lamp on my bedside table, where I can easily reach it. If anybody came into my room at night and woke me, I'd quickly flick off the lamp and make something up about having been up late and forgetting to turn it off before falling asleep.

The pitch darkness was a little bit frightening, even then, but what was more frightening was the fact that I just couldn't see anything. I heard that metallic clink again as I tried to move my hands, and a slightly muffled voice came from somewhere in the darkness. "The kid's waking up!"

"He's awake?"

"He's awake!"

"Get the boss!"

Only seconds later, lights were flicking on, blinding me. My eyes watered as I stared up into the harsh white glare, but I had other things to focus on right then. I could see suddenly, and what I saw wasn't good. I was in a long, low room, made almost entirely of metal. My hands were chained securely to the low, uncomfortable desk chair I sat in, and the person standing slightly away from me was somebody I thought I recognized.

Dark sunglasses…dark suit…but my head was pounding so badly I couldn't quite remember who he was. The metal door across from me slid open with a quiet whoosh and the last person I expected to see came striding across the room towards me. His boots made a clicking sound on the metal floor as he walked, and his face was stretched into a wide, confident smirk. It reminded me of a lion seeing terrified prey and knowing he has won.

O'Hare stopped when he reached me, folding his arms across his chest. "Hello, Teddy."

"What are you doing here?" I demanded of him, and then I heard the clinking sound as I tried to move my hands to mimic his posture. "What am _I _doing here?"

He moved forward, pushing a few strands of hair out of my eyes. When he locked gazes with me, he smiled slowly, showing his teeth. It didn't look like a natural smile; it looked cold and menacing. "What_ are _you doing here?" he whispered, a triumphant gleam coming into his eyes. "I think you know what you're doing here, Ted."

"No…" My voice trailed off.

He smirked. "And they warned me to watch out because they thought you were smart."

"Who warned you…?" My voice trailed off weakly. I couldn't continue my sentences. "Who warned you about me? And…and where are we?"

"Somewhere," he responded vaguely. "Somewhere far outside of town, Teddy. A place where people won't find you. Where they might just forget about you."

"What…what are you talking about?" No, that stutter in my voice wasn't from fear at his words, I told myself. I told myself it was just because I was confused, because he wasn't giving me any real answers. "What do you mean, where they might…might forget about me…?"

"You pulled an unwise stunt with those trees," O'Hare explained quietly. "You were a fool, Teddy. Why didn't you listen to me when I told you to forget about them? Where was your head when I told you to never go out of town again? Why did you ignore me, Ted? I meant business and you treated it like a game."

I could feel my hands shaking slightly, causing the handcuffs to clink against each other in a worrying way. But I also felt my jaw drop as I stared at him in disbelief. "Wha…that's…_that's_ why you brought me here? You're mad because I didn't listen to you? Because I brought back trees?!"

"You don't even understand what you've done!" he howled. "Because of that one tree growing in the town square, my business crumbled overnight. I fell from grace, I lost my position. I used to be a respected businessman in the community, Ted. You made me lose everything."

"I wasn't the one taking advantage of people!" I began hotly. "You have _some_ nerve! People are gonna be looking for me all over! You won't get away with this!"

He shook his head disbelievingly. "Open your eyes, Ted. I expected better from a kid as smart as you. Nobody's even noticed you're gone."

"They…they have to." I sounded unconvinced, even to my own ears. "They…"

"Why?" O'Hare asked, amusement clear in his voice. "Because you're the great Ted Wiggins, the one who…what was that garbage?…the one who speaks for the trees, is it? Is that why they should come looking for you? Think about it, Ted. You've done your job here. You got the tree growing safely, you taught people how to take care of the trees. You told them what the trees do. You're not needed anymore."

"I…it's not the same thing! They weren't…just keeping me around because they needed me, it's not like that!"

"I think it is." he nodded. "It's better this way, anyway. Now I don't have to risk you getting any more _ideas_." His voice turned suddenly threatening on that last word; his teeth were gritted in menace. "So just sit here like a good little boy until we can dispose of you, and teach the world why we decided to do away with trees in the first place."

"You won't get away with this," I spat. "The people already believe in trees too deeply. They're not gonna go flocking back to your precious air anymore, not now that they know the alternative."

"Keep telling yourself that, Teddy." He nodded condescendingly at me, giving me a pat on the head before turning to the door. "Good talk." He pressed a button on the wall, and the doors swung open with that quiet whooshing noise again. "Knock him out," he added quietly to one of the dark-suited men flanking the door.

The man nodded to show he understood. And I did, too.

The man walked slowly away from the door, out of my line of vision. I turned my head, pleased to see that the rest of my body wasn't bound like my hands. I watched him lean over a small silver tray, but holding what, I couldn't imagine. When he came back over to me, he held a long, shining needle in one hand, a finger on the plunger. I shuddered, trying to jerk away as he put a hand on my shoulder, tilting my chin up to reveal my neck.

"No!" I jerked away, the cuffs clinking with my every movement. "Don't you dare!" That was definitely not the right thing to say.

The other man on the other side of the door laughed mockingly.

I'd never heard the dark-suited men speak before, but when the one holding the needle did, it was very deep, very threatening. "Stay still."

"No, let me go!" I leaned away from him, trying to hide my neck. I didn't want to be put to sleep, because unconsciousness screamed vulnerability. And the last thing I wanted was to be defenseless with O'Hare just around the corner.

"Stay still!" And then the man had me in a death grip, holding me by the shoulders tightly, so tightly I couldn't get away. He put a hand on my cheek, turning it away to get another shot at my neck, and stabbed the needle in instantly. I felt him depressing the plunger, felt the needle stinging the skin of my neck, and I felt him slowly drawing it back out. The needle was now empty, posing no more threat. He put the needle back on the silver tray, letting me drop back against my seat.

My eyelids fluttered. I wanted to fight, but I was so exhausted. The little blue lights appeared in front of my eyes again, and the fluorescent lights on the ceiling began to twirl. My eyes just wouldn't stay open. I had to let them close.

"He's a fighter, this one," said one of the men in a deep voice over me.

"We'll just have to be more careful in the future of that."

"He's never going to escape. We didn't sign up to take people prisoner, or don't you remember?"

I couldn't make sense of what they were saying. Were they talking about me?

"I don't think anybody predicted a twelve-year-old kid being this hard to control. The boss might never be able to do as he wishes with him."

Blackness closed over me.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Drifting**_

_**Chapter Two **_

**A/N: I'm so sorry for this horribly lame chapter in which Ted is so horribly OOC... :C but thank you for all the reviews :) please don't quit reviewing because of this chapter... **

* * *

I awoke several more times in different places; sometimes the lights were on, sometimes they were off, but I was only ever awake for instants before I heard the telltale cry of, "Knock him out!" and I felt the needle going into my skin again. Every time, I fought the person holding the needle, fought them with everything I had, but I never had enough strength. My body was slow from fatigue and sedatives, and I couldn't think very quickly, or move very fast.

"Let me go!" I tried to give my voice power, but my tongue felt thick and heavy and hard to move. "Let me go!"

"Stay still."

"No!" I curled a hand into a fist, trying to reach out, to punch whoever held me, but strong hands suddenly found my arms, pinning me down. That familiar, stinging sensation as the needle pierced my skin came back again and I winced, recognizing what they were doing.

"Get off me!" I cried, but already colors were swirling into a blurry mass above me, and I could feel myself losing consciousness.

When I finally did awaken fully, my mouth was dry, like somebody had force-fed me a bag of salt. I licked my lips and raised my head, my hands giving off that metallic little _clink-clink_ again. I groaned, twisting my head to see the handcuffs. I had been sort of hoping that everything that had happened had been one weird dream.

I looked around myself, hoping for familiarity, but I wasn't in the metal room anymore, and it was a folding chair that I was cuffed to, not a desk chair. In one corner, there was a long, low wooden desk, a single door, and one of the dark-suited men standing guard. I licked my lips again. My mouth was so dry. I had a sudden desire for water, but I pushed it back, wondering how much noise it would take to get the guard away from the door and over to me.

As I began to lightly tug on my handcuffs, his shadow fell across me, his hand smacking the back of my head, fingers twisting in my hair. "Stop moving."

I let my head drop, waves of pain rolling through my head. "Where am I?"

"That's not for you to know."

"Excuse me." I glared up at him. "I've been forcibly taken away from my house, put under numerous times, and been handcuffed to a chair. I deserve to know."

I thought I could see a shadow of a smirk on his face. "You have nerve, kid. That's gonna get you killed here."

I rolled my eyes, the chains clinking softly again. "Thank you. I've been told things like that before."

"Don't start," he warned me, but I think he only changed the subject because he didn't have a good comeback. "We have means of shutting you up, and we're not afraid to use them."

I know that line probably sounds like something straight out some cheesy horror movie, but it was a lot scarier when said. The thought of their means of "shutting me up" honestly chilled my blood. I didn't want to be afraid, especially not of these men, who I'd always regarded as safe. They worked for O'Hare and O'Hare only wanted the best for us, right? I'd think to myself. After all, he was the man who thought of a way to sell air.

I scowled as I remembered my younger self's stupid, _stupid_ thoughts. The memory of O'Hare smiling gloatingly over me just…yesterday…three days ago…wait. I didn't even know what day it was anymore.

The man was studying me and his expression was torn between satisfaction and confusion, as if he was trying to guess my train of thought.

I looked up at him. "What day is it?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"It was Friday the last time I saw my calendar, but I've lost track of time lately. Would it be Saturday, then?"

He scowled, but grudgingly gave me an answer. "It's Tuesday."

"Oh, excellent, you're actually answering my questions, now?"

"Don't get too comfortable with it," he sneered. "I know you're used to living a spoiled little life in Thneedville, but O'Hare will take care of you soon enough."

"Spoiled little…?" my voice trailed off and I found myself unable to complete the sentence. My brows twisted down into a scowl again. "_That's_ nice."

"Now." He gave a great sigh, as if I had no idea how hard it was being him. For good measure, he gave me another cuff on the back of the head. "Shut up."

Little stars burst in front of my eyes and I tried to reach out a hand to put it on the back of my head, forgetting I was chained to the chair. My instinctive reaction was so strong that it completely upended the chair, throwing me onto the floor, my hands still locked behind me. I hadn't been far up off the floor, but it still hurt to hit the cold tile so hard.

The man began to right me, but I snapped at him, "No, wouldn't want you to help me along in my spoiled little life."

He scowled, surprised, but insisted on righting the chair. "That's what you get for being stupid, boy."

"So, this spoiled little life thing," I said conversationally and he gave a sigh.

"We've been through this before. You need to shut up."

"What a hard life you do lead, having to kidnap people for the heck of it."

Another sigh from him, and I opened my mouth to say more, but in an instant, he had swung the chair around until our faces were inches apart. He glared at me, one hand on the back of the chair. The other came up to smack me across the face so hard my ears rang and I cried out. "When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it." he snarled. "I'm not going to be gracious with you, boy. Now you be quiet, unless I have to _make_ you."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Drifting**_

_**Chapter Three**_

**A/N: Okay, okay! I actually legitimately liked this chapter. I don't know in-character it is, but at least I didn't have to worry about Arthur, who's sorta OC, sorta canon, because O'Hare did canonically have tons of people working for him. Anyway. I just think Ted annoys Arthur. I don't think Arthur will guard him anymore. He's too annoying. **

* * *

"Forty-three…forty-four…forty-five…" I mumbled under my breath.

The pain from the man's smack had long since faded and my head felt alright, but nothing could take away the sting of boredom.

The man standing guard at the door shot me a wary look. "What are you doing?"

I winced, stretching my neck. "How many tiles does this ceiling have?"

"Why?" He sounded suspicious, like I might be planning to use the number of ceiling tiles for an escape plan. But I didn't like my chances against him and his dark-suited twin and, besides that, I was going to figure out exactly what was going on before I left here.

"I'm bored," I replied. "I'm trying to count the ceiling tiles, but I'm not sure I can see them all from where I am."

"You're actually…counting the ceiling tiles?"

"Trying to," I corrected. "I'm up to forty-five, see, but I keep confusing the forty-sixth for one I've already counted. They're closer together than the others are, so it just looks like one huge tile. It's really frustrating."

"Count your tiles quietly."

I heaved a sigh.

* * *

"Fifty-seven!"

"What?"

"This ceiling has _fifty-seven_ tiles!"

"Don't tell me you've been counting them."

"Well, you've been so hospitable, I just had to do something with all this free time. What should I do next? Count the floor tiles?"

The man sighed. "You're bored?"

"Yep."

"And you're going to be insufferably annoying until you find something to do?"

"Being insufferably annoying is a gift, my mom tells me. She says I inherited it from my father."

"I bet she's divorced."

"Yep."

"So you really are bored?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Get up."

"I kinda can't."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Not mine."

_Clink, clink. _

He dropped the key back in his pocket, but I didn't forget which. His coat had several black pockets, but I kept my eyes trained on the one the key was in as he led me out of the room. For a moment, the lights glowed red and a siren wailed, announcing a "security breach" but the man slammed a huge hand down on a blue button on the wall, and the sirens shut up. He tugged me along, up a flight of stairs, but I kept my eyes on the blue button. "What was that?"

"A warning." he replied shortly. "So if any prisoner ever tries to escape, we'll know." But he watched me out of the corner of his eye for my expression, and I tried my hardest not to give him one. My gaze traveled back to the blue button. Maybe, after O'Hare finally explained some things…

I don't know if O'Hare was expecting him today or not, but the man didn't bother to knock when he reached the metal door. He waved a hand across a strange device on the wall that looked like a motion detector, and the doors swung open, revealing O'Hare sitting at a long, low desk. He was holding a manila folder and he looked tired and worn, like whatever he was reading was draining.

The dark-suited man gave me a push up to the desk and walked forward with me, towering over O'Hare for a minute or so.

When it became clear that ignoring us wouldn't make us go away, O'Hare lifted his eyes up to meet mine, cocking a thick black eyebrow. "What do you two want?" he barked. "I'm in the middle of things, Arthur."

The man, who I now realized was Arthur, nodded. "The kid's bored."

"Oh?" O'Hare looked up at me, disinterested. "Do you know what I do for bored prisoners, Teddy?"

I shook my head cautiously. This didn't seem like a good time to speak, even though a catty remark was teetering on the edge of my tongue.

"If you find out, maybe you won't be so bored anymore," he smirked. "Take him to the freezer," he added to Arthur.

The freezer?

Arthur grabbed me by the chains wound around my hands again, physically dragging me away, and I knew he'd hoped that O'Hare would give him an answer like that. I had the feeling he was tired of standing guard over me, and that counting tiles was really only making things worse.

When we reached what must've been the right door, there was that same motion detector on the wall. He waved a hand over it, the door slid open for him, and he shoved me inside. I instantly knew why they called it 'the freezer'.

I shivered as a blast of cold air hit me, and Arthur offered me a tiny smirk before the door began to close between us. "We'll leave you free to move around, so it'll take you longer to freeze to death."

The words made a chill far worse than that of the freezer run up my spine. "Wait!"

The door clicked closed, and my frantic hands hit smooth, frigid metal. I sank slowly to the ground and shivered again.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Drifting**_

_**Chapter Four **_

**A/N: ****SURPRISE**

**Yes, this is the surprise. Updating all of my eighteen in-progress fics at once. It was pretty crazy, but I did it, and it's here, and good day to you all! I had tons of fun doing this, so I hope you guys have tons of fun reading this! **

**Well, I'm not sure about the ending to this chapter, but I struggled with it for too dang long :P **

* * *

For the first few minutes, it wasn't so bad. I moved around a bit, and the cold fell back, and my shirt, though thin, had long sleeves and protected me from the cold for a little while. But the freezer had an endless supply of cold, and the human body does not have an endless supply of heat. I collapsed, shuddering, to the icy metal floor of the cell, my hands on my upper arms, rubbing frantically. There was no friction to be found.

I could practically see O'Hare smirking at me for my show of weakness and I scowled, pushing myself off the floor on shaking hands. I had heard Arthur's words, heard him tell me that he would leave me free to move, so it would take me longer to freeze to death, but I couldn't quite wrap my mind around it. I was just an ordinary kid, and things like this did not happen to perfectly ordinary kids. Perfectly ordinary kids were doing homework, or thinking about their crush, or getting grounded for staying out late. Perfectly ordinary kids didn't belong in freezing cold cells.

I leaned back against the smooth metal wall, feeling heat leaving my body at a rapid pace. I couldn't take much more of this. My shivers were slowing, but I knew that was a bad sign. I'd read about the importance of body heat in biology last year, and I well remembered the side effects.

As I sat there pondering what was going to happen to me, what my frozen corpse was going to look like, trying to force myself to believe that I might not get out of here, I remembered that I could still move. They must have believed this room completely escape-proof, but it couldn't be. There was that door at the other end, the motion activated door. If only I could reach the other side…

I moved closer to the tiny slit indicating the only exit and entrance, running a slow finger along the divide. Nothing happened, but then, I hadn't really expected it to – doors did not open by somebody stroking the slit. I ran my hand farther along it, searching for anything. Buttons to press, knobs to turn… anything would have worked for me by that point.

Finding nothing, I sank back to the ground. There had to be a way. If there was a way in, there had to be a way out. I ran to the wall opposite, searching there for a hidden door, but one quick scan with my hands revealed that I had been reading too much Harry Potter; there was nothing there. I checked the other two walls, the floor, and even tried to climb up one of them to examine the ceiling, but I went sliding painfully back down, landing on the cold metal with a thump.

I had been so focused on my task that I had barely noticed the cold, but now it pierced my body in sharp, icy slivers. There was nothing there to be found, no way to get out of this room unless someone let me out. With a sigh, I lean closer to the icy wall, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. O'Hare took me for a reason. He wouldn't just let me die here, would he? Unless all he wanted was to get me out of the way…

I bit my lip as I considered this new and frightening possibility, but before I could go any farther on that train of thought, the door slid open and blissfully warm air rushed in to greet me, swirling around my frozen limbs. I looked up to see Arthur standing there, the guard who had landed me in this room in the first place.

"Get up, kid," he intoned sternly.

I scowled at him. "Why? What are you going to do?"

He stepped into the freezer and grabbed me easily by the collar, dragging me along the metal hallways. I heard the freezer door whooshing back into place behind us, ready for its next unlucky occupant. I wanted to protest and get Arthur to drop me, but I was just so glad that I was warming up again that I didn't really fight him that much; I just let him carry me wherever he wanted us to go.

We reached the spot where I thought O'Hare's office was located, but when Arthur swiped his hand along the scanner on the wall and the doors opened, it was a tiny and unused place filled with cardboard boxes.

"And what is this?" I demanded, gesturing to the room with one hand.

"You're to take these boxes and carry them to the room down the hall," Arthur replied curtly, gesturing to one of the only ordinary doors within the place, about twenty feet away down the long hallway. The door stood slightly ajar. "You're not to touch anything else."

"And would you like to explain why I'm doing this?" I folded my arms. "Like, maybe, what's in the boxes?"

"Don't ask questions," he snapped, and he picked up one of the boxes with ease, dropping it into my hands. My arms trembled under the weight, but I forced myself to stand up straight. "I'm just saying, it's a bit odd, isn't it? O'Hare has thousands of people at his disposal and he chooses to get _me_ to do this kind of work? Kind of stupid, isn't it?"

"Get to work," Arthur ordered shortly.

"No, I'm only saying—

"Get to work!" He leaned over and smacked me on the cheek, smacked me so hard that I tumbled to the ground, the box falling out of my hands and landing on its side on the floor. I found myself sitting on the cool metal floor, holding my cheek tenderly as tears of pain sprang to my eyes.

"Just because the boss told us that he didn't want you dead, it doesn't mean we don't have permission to put you in your place when you smart off," he snarled.

I glared up at him, rubbing the side of my face and taking slowly to my feet again. "Put me in my place?" I spat, reaching down to grab up the box again.

Arthur kicked the box aside, away from me, and towered over me, as if he wanted to emphasize just how very small I was, compared to him. "There are worse things than death, and if you say one more word, I'll show you what I mean. I'll say it one last time – _get to work_."

I broke off my glare and reached for the box again, but my hands were shaking, giving away how much his threat had scared me. But carrying the first box to the next room leaves me free to think; what did he mean by 'worse than death'? Physical pain, no matter how brutal, surely can't be worse than death, right? Speaking of pain…I rolled my shoulders a bit, wincing as I released the first box in the darkened room. There were desks and chairs set up like a classroom, but there were papers taped to the walls, and I caught my name in one, a newspaper article talking about Thneedville being restored to its former glory, with trees blooming everywhere. I walked slowly past the box, going over to the read the article. Somebody had circled my name in red Sharpie, and more ink was blotting out the rest of the article. Practically the only thing visible on the page was my name. I reached out and touched the weathered page, but the ink was clearly old; it didn't feel wet or recent.

And it absolutely terrified me to realize that O'Hare had planned everything out, right up to this moment. He had planned to kidnap me like this. He had kept track of the Thneedville newspapers and caught my name in the article. I shuddered, but the door creaking suddenly behind me jerked me out of my thoughts. A very old man with few teeth and an impressive white beard was stalking into the room, brandishing a cane rather violently.

"What are you doing here, boy?" he snarled, taking a step closer to me. "Get out of here!"

"I…I…" I scrambled away from him, closer to the door. "I'm…I was ordered here."

"By who?" The man snarled.

"O'Hare?" I phrased it more like a question, my voice losing all its power.

The name must have been some sort of magic word, because the old face softened instantly. "Oh. Well. Hurry up, then."

I scrambled out of the room and back to the one with the cardboard boxes, feeling more than a little shaky.

"What took you so long?" An unimpressed Arthur asked when I reentered.

I glared at him. "You never said speed was essential."

Arthur pulled a stack of papers off one of the boxes and scribbled something on the top paper with a pencil. "Speed is essential now, unless you want me to break your bones."

I wasn't sure if it was an empty threat or not, but it sounded like one. "That'd put a wedge between me and taking all these boxes, wouldn't it?"

He scowled. "Get the damn boxes out of here."

I rolled my eyes but I obeyed, wincing again as the weight hit me. I wasn't used to carrying something so heavy. I wondered briefly what was in the boxes and stopped in the hallway suddenly as the thought struck me. I hesitantly tried to pry open the top, but it was taped shut, and removing the tape was a sound that would surely attract Arthur's attention…

I started to pry it open, but my cheek was still stinging from contact with the man's rough hand and I reluctantly decided that it would be best to just find out later. I set the next box down in the darkened room, but the old man was still there, sitting at one of the desks, scribbling something on a piece of paper and muttering to himself. When my box hit the floor with a thump, he glanced up in surprise, only to wave me away again.

So that was how it went. I would go to the room with Arthur, pick up one of the boxes, walk down the hallway and go back into the room with the old man, who at least seemed not to mind me. After about ten of the boxes, however, my arms started protesting strongly whenever I tried to pick more up. I grunted with the effort, stooping low to put my fingers beneath the bottom of the box and the floor.

"What's taking you so long?" Arthur demanded, clearly annoyed.

"They're _heavy_," I snapped at him. "It hurts."

"Keep working."

"Why am I even doing this? What is this going to help?"

"Don't ask questions."

"Okay, so you kidnap me, lock me up, stick me in a room with a temperature below zero, and then set me to work lifting enormous boxes, and your only explanation is 'don't ask questions?'"

He flung me onto the ground in one swift movement, putting his shoe on my chest and leaning down to look at me. "I said it once, and I'll say it again – get back to work unless you want me to show you what's worse than death. Now _get_, and the next words I expect to hear from out of your mouth are, 'I'm done'. _Get back to work_."


End file.
